What a day!
by Lucy Inglorion
Summary: It had been a bad day. Lamentably, there was no other way to describe it without going into extreme unpleasantness. Lucy was determined to remain sullen. Plot bunny changed directions: now a crossover.
1. Prologue

Lucy the Valient, queen of Narnia, was bored. Or so stated her letter to Prince Corin of Archenland. Not a lethargic, lazy, moping bored with things to do around every corner but no motivation to get to one's feet, nor yet a real, earnest bored, where there really _isn't _anything to do and if one doesn't find some form of entertainment one will do something unadvisable and usually bordering on mad. Not even the brand of boredom where - never mind, thought Lucy, flipping her quill pen around and brushing at the words. (She had never quite gotten used to having no erasers in Narnia.) Maybe "bored" is the wrong term. She wasn't bored.

She turned the quill to its right end again.

She was discontented; restless; stir-crazy? No, Corin wouldn't know what that meant, she thought. And heaven help the person who trusts him to figure anything out on his own. If only his mind were as quick as his fists…

Lucy growled and crumpled the paper. It had been a bad day. There was no other way to describe it, lamentably enough. She concentrated on pressing the letter into as small a mass of ink-smeared complaints as possible.

Perhaps she would throw it at something. She was in a mood to throw things now.

Maybe the window. Or the door. Or the fly on the wall that she was sure was sneering at her. Finally she settled on the fireplace. Not literally, of course, for there our story would end. End in flames and smoke and screams most befitting to conclude a day like this one. That is, if the fire had been lit. So then. She was even to be denied the lip-curling pleasure of watching a paper burn.

The letter landed in the cold ashes with a plop and a puff of smoky dust. Lucy glared. If looks could ignite paper…

Susan poked her head in. How many times had Lucy asked the Cair's master carpenter to fix the lock? Oh yes, once. An hour ago. Lucy raised her glare to Susan. If looks could ignite sisters…

"Lucy?"

"What?" How could one word sound so sulky and childish? Lucy decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Are you well?" Lucy's decision sprouted wings and flew out the window.

"'Am I-' no! No I'm not. So go away and leave me to the unendingly exasperating - no, _maddening_ existence fate has dealt me."

Susan did.

"The unendingly exasperating-slash-maddening existence fate has dealt you?" Edmund, king of Narnia and Duke of Lantern Waste emerged from behind the bookshelf.

"Ed, go away." How many times had she asked the Cair's master carpenter to board up that secretly installed crawlspace between their rooms? Oh, yes. Once. An hour ago.

"Been reading the dictionary or something?"

"No, I've just had an overdose of you." Lucy retorted tartly. Ed was the worst for teaching you long words (the curse of court language) and turning up when you tried to use them. Note to self: use words of only up to two syllables when you think you're alone. Well, alone with your older sister who, however much of a plod she might be, would never make fun of you for broadening your vocabulary.

"Oh, oh, ohhhhh, you've killed me." Edmund clutched his heart and staggered around until he tripped on a stack of books and toppled over, twitching his face into mocking contortions. Lucy knew all of this without looking. Perhaps if he'd changed the routine once or twice since he turned eight…Lucy flopped in a chair and went back to her moping. Silently this time.

Presently Ed popped up, looking rather sheepish, and wandered aimlessly around the room till he ended up in a chair in the corner opposite hers. Well, technically both chairs were hers, both being in her room, but behaviorally this was never observed. Of course, it wasn't like she could sit in both of her chairs at once, seeing as how they were about 30 feet apart, but he could at least have asked.

As if reading her mind, Ed stood again, and addressed her with a smile and a bow. (Lucy never could decide which was the more responsible for all the younger foreign noblewomen falling all over themselves, sometimes literally, in his presence.)

"Oh, pardon me your _highness, _but might I make use of one of your lovely, alluring, and otherwise charming armchairs?"

Now if only he could learn to use such words when talking with or about aforementioned noblewomen, perhaps their instant infatuations with him would last something more than a few minutes. The all-time record was an hour. Ed had been so preoccupied with his food that he'd forgotten to mention immediately to the fawning Tarkheena how rare women of her sort were. In his own words, "who can light up a room simply by leaving it." Needless to say, after that particular day, Peter would send him out hunting or something whenever they entertained dignitaries, seeing as how his presence was rapidly proving to be so devastating to foreign relations.

Edmund pulled out the dagger he insisted on wearing even in the castle, and began cleaning dirt (real or imagined, Lucy couldn't tell) from under his fingernails. He used to pick his teeth with the same implement, but had stopped after his elbow had been bumped one too many times. Even Edmund wasn't immune to the human instinct for self-preservation, Lucy reflected smugly. And if that meant giving up habits reminiscent of 18th century pirates in novels, so be it.

A few minutes of silence passed, Lucy still brooding. Edmund finished with his nails and began absently drilling a hole in the polished wooden arm of the chair with his dagger tip. Lucy didn't notice. Finally Ed spoke.

"Care to talk about it?"

**Author's notes: **

**This is my first story ever to publish anywhere, so do be kind, if you would. It's probably unnecessary to state (most of you probably being authors yourselves) but I would love reviews! Positive ones would make my day, but constructive criticism is equally welcome (albeit in a rather reluctant sort of way). I hope you enjoy it! **


	2. Lucy's day

**Disclaimers: I still don't own The Chronicles of Narnia, regrettably enough, but to rub salt in the wound I now have to admit that I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, either. Well, except Will. I claim him whatever happens. You can have the monkey. **

Why is it, _why_? that nasty things have to happen on perfectly normal perfectly enjoyable days?

That's what this day had been.

"Isn't it still?" Ed wanted to know.

"No."

"Oh. Sorry. Continue, Your Majesty." Edmund was still mindlessly drilling away at the chair, shavings falling to the floor. Lucy still didn't notice.

A perfectly normal, perfectly enjoyable day. And then something happens to ruin it. Consistently. Always. Unfailingly. Without exception.

Although, Lucy had to admit, this was as close to an exception as you could get and still say that "something happened." It was really more like, "I happened on something." But on what precisely?

She had been down to the treasure chamber that morning. It was the brooch that made her do it. The stupid, silver, pin-on brooch. Her best one. Not too big, not too small, accented her blue eyes perfectly, set with a myriad of tiny deep-sky-colored sapphires, and missing. Always missing. Always _always_ missing. Consistently. Unfailingly. Without exception.

In fact, she had never even seen it.

Susan said it was all those things, and she did have _such _good taste. Susan had bought it for her from the silversmith at Beaversdam several months ago, and left it on her bed. When Lucy looked for it, it wasn't there. Go figure. She forgot about it until a helpful raven found it in a dumb (as in unable to speak) blue jay's nest, and kindly returned it to Susan, who gave it to a faun to deliver to Lucy. Did it ever get delivered to Lucy? Want to guess? The faun wandered around for a while before clumsily dropping the jewelry out the window while trying to catch a piece of dandelion fluff. Brilliant.

Only this morning it was found again, and delivered to the treasure chamber. A message was taken to Lucy, and she set out to catch the tricky thing once and for all.

As she picked her way between chests and suits of armor and various scattered gemstones, Lucy reflected on the need the poor room had of organization. Serious organization. And cleaning, she added, noting the dismal untouched look of all the treasure. She sneezed. Dust flew. So did something small and furry. The Something knocked into Lucy's left arm and bounced off. Lucy jumped backward and screamed, but not very loudly. (That way if there was really nothing to scream about she could deny that she had screamed at all.) A thrill shivered up her spine.

As the air cleared, she looked up. There, swinging above her head by its tail, was a little capuchin (at least she thought it was a capuchin) monkey, wearing a ratty red vest. Lucy thought she could safely say it was about the most adorable animal she had ever seen.

"Hello there!"

The monkey chittered at her. Lucy stepped closer.

"Can you talk?"

By way of reply, the monkey stuck out its tongue at her and dropped to the floor. Lucy stepped back and watched as the funny little thing began picking through things on the floor. It nonchalantly selected a gold chain and what must be the elusive brooch (as has been mentioned, she had never seen it, and so couldn't be sure), and handed them to Lucy.

"Where did you come from?" She wondered aloud, smiling and fingering the brooch.

The monkey chittered again. It hopped up on a shelf and reached for Susan's magic horn.

"Stop that. No! no, you can't take that! Give it here! Give it to me! Hey! come-"

Before she could move, the monkey (who was looking less cute by the second) swung down to the floor and darted through a door into an adjacent room. Lucy dove after it.

As she hit the ground, (wood, not stone, and about two feet below where it should have been,) two thoughts went through her head.

Déjà vu, and ouch.

Déjà vu because it felt a great deal like the first time she blundered back out of the wardrobe into the empty room in the Professor's house, something she hardly ever thought about now.

Ouch because she wasn't expecting the drop, and it hurt!

She crouched back on her heels (something that takes considerable practice in long luscious dresses like she was wearing) and looked around.

There wasn't much to see, considering that instead of dropping _out_ of a wardrobe, she had apparently dropped _in_to one this time. At least, considering the dark, and the stuffiness, and the enormous amount of brocade skirt tangled around her arms, it was a pretty fair guess that she was in a closet of some kind.

The monkey, just within arm's reach, seemed to share her predicament. He got out of it faster, though, and slipped out the double doors of the wardrobe-closet place. Ignoring the thick fabric around her, Lucy shoved her way out after it, and fell again, this time onto the polished wood floor of a large room. The window was open, and the drapes were blowing wildly. The smell of gunpowder (something Lucy only identified later) was in the air, and it sounded like there was a bombing going on. Looked like it too, from the orange glow in the night outside. Lucy only just had time to grab the monkey before a young woman in nightclothes rushed into the room, eyes wide. She didn't notice Lucy, but dashed over to the great fireplace and pulled a heavy and decorative sword mount off the mantel.

After a millisecond or so of thought, Lucy decided against asking where she had landed and when, opting to take this opportunity to make her exit. Still half-crouching, she backed up into the closet again, the monkey squirming and nipping at her all the while.

Meantime, the strange woman, failing at pulling the sword out, ran for the closet as well.

They collided in front of it. The woman screamed. At such close range, Lucy noted immediately how beautiful she was. Honey brown hair, molasses-colored eyes, shining white teeth and delicate features. She looked like someone out of a picture book.

"Who the deuce are you?" the woman shrieked. She had a less pleasant voice than her face would suggest, Lucy decided. "Never mind," the woman continued. "Get in here, quick!" She shoved Lucy roughly into the closet. Which was where she wanted to be anyway, so no harm done. Still holding the monkey, Lucy somersaulted backwards, hoping like anything that she wouldn't feel smooth wooden boards at her back.

She did.

**Author's notes: If you're a fan of Elizabeth Swann, perhaps best to drop the story here. Because with Lucy at my side, we will reveal dear Lizzy's true character and sabotage her romance. Sound good? **

**Well actually I'm not sure. That **_**would**_** break poor Will's heart, wouldn't it? We'll just have to think about it. Keep reading! **


End file.
